Bladder Pulsing Novels & Stories

“That’s not atonement. That’s self-indulgence.” He absorbed that, eyes dark, then nodded once. “Do it,” he said. She turned the unit on. The first pulse hit at a low setting—a faint buzzing under his skin. His abdominal muscles fluttered, contracting in a shallow wave. He exhaled. “That all?” “Baseline,” she said. “Let me know when you feel the first real kick.” She nudged the dial-up. The second pulse made his obliques seize more sharply, drawing his torso in a fraction. The electrodes on his thigh fired a beat later, quad jerking.

The contact triggered an immediate, involuntary spike in my pulse—the frantic hammer of my heart against his ribs contrasting sharply with the cold focus of my mind. "Your database can freeze my fleet," Killian growled softly, his other hand sliding up my bare neck, his rough thumb pressing firmly against the soft skin of my inner pulse point, feeling the rapid, telltale thrum. "But the system doesn't control the air in this room. And it doesn't control the way your pulse races the moment I touch you." "The pulse is a biological reflex, Killian," I gasped, my back arching slightly against the unyielding strength of his arm as his hand tilted my jaw back, forcing my green eyes to absorb the s

I rested a hand on my rounded belly, feeling another strong kick that made me flinch. “Alright, little ones,” I murmured with a small smile. These little ones are kicking the sense out of me. “I get it, you’re impatient, but just a little while. Let Mommy breathe a little.” They have been restless for days now, kicking hard into my bladder, which made me constantly urinate, but Veronica said it was normal.

The only response I receive is the soft echo of snores reverberating from the back of my mind, clear evidence of her nocturnal efforts. Now that I'm properly awake, my bladder decides to remind me that it’s been neglected. Fantastic. Urgently shuffling to the edge of the bed, I swing my legs down, pausing for a second, and bracing for the pain I’m half expecting. But apparently, my bladder isn't interested in waiting for any pain checks, it demands attention now.

I hadn’t even prepared myself emotionally to get through that pain again. My bladder feels tight, but I hold onto my pee. I brace myself for their entrance, and close my eyes to pray for strength.

He is looking at me now, and I feel my pussy tingling, as I reply. "Well, sometimes just a small trickle. But other times it can be quite a lot. Do you think it could be my bladder, Doctor?" I ask. " Do you think there is a problem?" I gaze at him, my blue, limpid eyes displaying a childlike quality, despite my obvious teenage sexuality.

Each vein pulsating blood in your living body reacts to his presence and it's boiling with annoyance. And yet, he stands there, the edge of his lips scornfully lifting in mirth.

The age of the pregnancy that is getting closer to the time of delivery makes the baby’s head drop and press on the mother’s bladder so that she urinates more often. When urinating, there was fresh blood flowing along with the urine. My facial expression changed, seeing the fresh blood flowing. My eyes bulged as if they were going to come out, my mouth gaped with my breath hitching. My hands and feet trembled, my face turned pale seeing the pool of blood in the bathroom toilet. I pressed the plush button to flush the toilet. The pooled blood disappeared, but the water was still slightly pink. Slowly getting out of the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, anxiety began to hit. Is it time

One tiny blob. The ultrasound machine remains silent. Too silent. My pulse explodes. Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Beep-beep!

"But I need to pee." "No, baby you don't." He groaned. I didn't, but it was worth a try. I sighed in defeat, realizing that my bladder's dramatic plea wasn't going to win me any sympathy points from Leo's cuddle barricade. But then, as I shifted slightly, I felt something unexpected—a subtle but unmistakable presence pressing against my lower back. My eyes widened in realization. Oh no, he didn't. I hesitated for a moment, disbelief mingling with embarrassment, and then I tried to wiggle away again, thinking maybe it was my imagination playing tricks on me. But there was no denying it this time—the unmistakable pressure against my lower back was far too real.